


Fine is Fine is Fine

by bellygunnr



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 10:37:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20928848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellygunnr/pseuds/bellygunnr
Summary: Agent 3 is always fine. It's fine.





	Fine is Fine is Fine

an arm gone and a name forgotten, the agent limps back to the rendezvous, clinging to the walkie talkie for guidance. he faces the sun as it bears down on the decimated, inky earth, blinding him but defining his destination. the shack is a black, jagged silhouette on the horizon, still and unmoving.

as he gets closer, he is relieved to see movement around the perimeter. he can't recall whose supposed to be there but he knows that they are good.

by the time he's arrived, the sun has mostly gone, plunging the world into twilight haziness. angry red streaks bleed into the sky and drip from the sparse clouds. more scars than rivers, he thinks dully. more scars than rivers.

the agent knocks on the door to the shack, except he doesnt. his arm is missing. he talks into the walkie talkie until the door opens and he is assaulted by a hug.

cuttlefish, one, two.... he doesn't recognize the last two.

one of them's not an inkling. but they aren't an enemy...

"woah, gnarly, three. what happened...?"

"the mission was more dangerous than we anticipated. i apologize, three."

"inkling limbs grow back, don't worry, young'un. you'll be just fine."

but three is tired of being _fine._

* * *

he is always fine. he has always been fine. ever since he took this job when he was 17, he has been fine, and he was fine when he was 13 and 14 and and and

he is fine.

because he has to be.

because the apartment is a little different now and he can no longer skip paying bills just for a lark in the dark or because he's miles away from home. because there has to be food in the fridge and clean laundry and cleaned rooms. because next to his dynamo is an octoshot and an e-liter that don't belong to him.

because the spare room belongs to someone else.

so he is fine.

but he gets looks like he isn't, anyway. sly glances and touches from the octoling (who he remembers is Eight) that threaten to close his throat. worried questions and muffled voices, texts from coworkers, pain working in waves down his arm, down his spine.

_inkling limbs grow back_

yours won't. the hospital was happy enough to tell you that. the cells are all slowed and deadened and unresponsive.

they don't know why.

he knows why. so it's fine.

and he's so tired of being fine.


End file.
